Five Times the Lightbringer Saw No Colour and the First Time He Did
by HeKillsWithHisSmile
Summary: Tumblr Prompt: "As the bringer of light, Lucifer is the source of all types of it, including the colors, but that comes with a price: he cannot see them for himself, instead only seeing in black and white. When he becomes mortal around Chloe, however, he can see colors in all their vibrancy" 5 1 times fic
1. I: Creation of the Stars

**_A/N: Hi again. So, this was based on a tumblr prompt from user princess-dean-winchester-of-hell via luciferprompts. My friend (who this is gifted to on AO3) told me that I should write something for this and this is the result. My very first 5+1 things fic using a prompt that we both loved quite a bit. I hope you like it. It is completed, so expect all six chapters to be up very soon._**

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Samael had always known that his sight was different from that of his siblings and parents; knew that they could see things differently that what he could. His sight was filled with tones of grey and the Silver City was not much more than just a blanket of white for the most part. He could see no colour: the golden tones of his Mother's hair, or the electric blue of his Sister's eyes. It didn't bother him most of the time; there wasn't much colour variation in the Silver City and, because he didn't know any better, he didn't feel as though he was missing out on anything.

But then his Father spoke to them about a new project. A realm in the empty Universe around them where there was to be so much colour, so much vibrancy, and a paradise made for his newest life project: Humanity.

It sounded wonderful, and if Samael had any concept of colour other than those on the monochrome spectrum, he would have been able to picture it for himself. But he couldn't. His siblings marveled in their thoughts, often talking to each other about what they thought it might look like in the end.

It was the first time Samael had ever felt separate and distant from his family.

So when his Father called upon him to be the Lightbringer and to create the stars, Samael had wondered if this was the moment he would finally be given the gift of vibrancy in his sight.

But once his stars were lit and the colours began to shine, Samael could still nothing but grey.

It was the first time he had questioned his Father.

_Why?_

_Because it is My will._

Little did Samael realise just how much of an impact that one small question would have on the rest of his existence.


	2. II: Eden

It was some time later that his Father had finished creating His project. In Humanity's terms it had been little over a week, but in Heaven it had been several millennia.

In that time, Samael still wondered why it was that he had been denied the ability to see the colours his stars had created. He knew that his Father had some kind of plan, but surely denying His child the right to see his own work couldn't be part of it.

It was no longer only the matter of his sight that bothered Samael these days. Ever since his Father had started this project, He had spent less and less time with His family, often choosing Earth and Humanity over them.

Eventually, Samael had reached his breaking point. He wanted to see for himself why his Father had decided that His own family were less important than the world that He had been busy creating.

Therefore, one night, he snuck out and flew down from the Heavens and onto the Earth below. He had been told by others who had seen it, his eldest Brother, Amenadiel, being one of them, that Earth was as vibrant as any other part of the corner of the Universe it occupied, but Samael saw none of that, not that it surprised him any more. Still, it didn't dampen his curiosity. He flew to where the first of Humanity resided and when he landed, even without the ability to see the colours of Eden around him, he could appreciate the beauty of it all.

There was bodies of water - lakes and rivers, he had been told - around him in the midst of what he assumed they had named 'trees' and the sky above was clear. He didn't know what it would look like if he could see it the way everyone else could, but it was beautiful. It was paradise.

He wandered through the trees for a while, noticing something in the distance. At first he thought it to be one of his siblings coming to find him, having noticed that he was gone. But as he moved closer, he realised that it wasn't one of his siblings at all. It was the female his Father had created.

He didn't move to her straight away, and instead moved behind one of the trees and watched her from a distance. She was beautiful, definitely the most beautiful thing he had seen in this paradise thus far. Her hair in his eyes was jet black and from the shade of grey, he could tell that her skin was darker than his own.

Samael watched for a while, not wanting to bring attention to himself. He drew back his wings, hoping that if she looked this way, the Human wouldn't see them or him. But as he did, he heard the snapping sound of a twig breaking, his wing having got caught in one of the branches behind him. He cursed, trying to free himself before the Human noticed.

"Are you okay?"

"Er…"

"Let me help you."

Samael did nothing other than watch her as the Human freed him from the tree. She was indeed beautiful and he would have given anything in that moment to see the colour shining in her eyes as they stared at each other once he was able to move his wings again.

The lack of colour in the paradise around him certainly didn't have an impact on the beauty around him that one night.


	3. III: Hell

Never in his life had he felt pain like this. He wanted nothing more than to flap his wings to right himself, to slow himself down, but they were useless limbs attached to his back, both broken and hurting in a way that they had never been before. The searing pain of his burning skin as the fire that came with falling at such a speed claimed him. All the way he cried out, his eyes closed tightly, unable to see how much further he would have to fall.

So when he landed, it was unexpected and the sheer force of his body hitting the floor of the underworld sent tremors that he knew would be felt back up in Heaven. They would know that he had landed.

It took some time for him to come around and for the pain to wear off enough for him to move. In many ways he wished the impact had killed him, had ended his existence, but he knew that it wouldn't have. If his Father had wanted to destroy him, He would have done back up in Heaven, but instead He had cast him out, throwing him out of the gates of Heaven so that he fell all the way to the bottom of the underworld. Alive and in pain.

There was nothing but black and dark greys around him and, for once in his life, he didn't know if that was because of his sight or if the underworld was really like this. Even so, the lack of lighter greys and whites scared him. Everything felt dark and close and not at all like the Silver City he had once called home.

Before he had wanted the ability to see colour to appreciate the beauty of Universe around him, the Universe that he had had a hand in lighting, but now? Now he wanted it because anything was less frightening than the abyss that surrounded him.


	4. IV: Earth: England, 1580s

He had been surprised when the young Englishman he had met hadn't been afraid of who he really was. At a time when Witchcraft was ripe and the belief and fear that Devil was among them was all-too potent (and true in this case), Lucifer had been shocked that the man had barely battered an eye; had not called for someone to destroy him.

Instead, the young man had made friends with the Devil, promising not to tell anyone of his true nature. Especially since Lucifer had promised and also shown that he wasn't planning on doing anything that might be conceived as 'evil', immoral for the time, almost certainly, but not evil.

In fact, it had been Lucifer that had introduced this young man to his future wife who he eventually married in 1582. In return, the young man had shared with the Devil the first drafts of his writings, asking him for his opinions. Asking him if he could picture the words on the page in his mind.

It was then that Lucifer explained what he now deemed as his curse.

Having spent millennia in Hell had changed Lucifer and his opinions. First, it had been his name; he had changed it not long after accepting his new fate, but wanting to keep something of his old self. He had once been the Lightbringer, after all, and, despite it being at his Father's calling and that he had never been able to see it in the way that it was intended to be seen, creating the stars was something that he was still immensely proud of.

Secondly, Lucifer had begun to hate his Father even more. Once the pain at being cast out had faded, what had been left was anger. Anger that his Father had thrown him out the way he did; anger at how his siblings had watched as his wings were broken by force, not one of them stepping in to help him; anger at how all of this could have been prevented if his Father wasn't the bastard that he was.

And thirdly, Lucifer had begun to view the matter of his colour-blind sight differently. He had never really given it much thought when he had been in Heaven, but his time in Hell had made him rethink many things. Maybe the lack of colour in his sight had been part of his punishment? His Father was supposed to be an all-knowing being, right? Therefore, maybe he had foreseen what would happen to him in the future. Maybe being unable to see his stars and the colour they made in their true form was a punishment right from the moment he could see. Maybe he had been damned from birth.

The young man he explained this to, one night sat in a pub, had listened with fascination. They kept their voices low, not wanting anyone to overhear what they were saying and think either of them mad.

It was then, as the Devil explained his tale, that the young man began to realise that he had been asking him the wrong question when it came to reading his works. Rather than asking Lucifer if he could picture it in his mind, colours and all, he should have been asking if the words he chose impacted him in certain ways. Could he feel the anger in the syllables and the passion in the tones they were spoken in? Images in all their vibrancy was not what was important, but rather the vibrancy of the language.

So, many years later, when the young man became the most famous playwright in history, he would often look back to those moments spent with the Devil himself to remind him that the words he chose often had more impact than the images they created.


	5. V: Earth: Los Angeles, 2016 (i)

There weren't many times that Lucifer was thankful he could see no colour. Whilst he didn't often dwell on it, he sometimes did catch himself thinking that it would be nice to see the LA skyline in the dark with its coloured lights shining like stars from below. Sometimes he would stand on the balcony of his penthouse, whisky in hand, and look at the view. Even without colour it was still quite some view. Although nothing but white light, the lights from buildings, from street lights and from cars, still shone like stars if he imaged hard enough. He would also gaze at the actual stars, too. Still shining bright against the black sky. He had often heard the night sky deemed as 'deep blue'. Sometimes he wondered what they would look like.

But while those nights were rare, the nights he was thankful for it was even rarer.

It had been a while since he had seen her. He had kept an eye on her progress, of course, often happy with where she was now. At times, he had found himself disappointed in her choices, but what was Free Will without those choices to make? When her car had rolled up in front of his club and her head popped out the window, he couldn't help but smile.

He didn't consider himself a man that had many friends, mainly because he wasn't one to form emotional attachments. He didn't understand why, and really, part of him didn't really care. But there was something about Delilah that had made him care for her as such. Yes, they had slept together, of course they had, multiple times in fact, but she was first and foremost a friend. And he wanted to protect her.

Which was why his favour he asked of her had been as serious as it was.

_Pull yourself together_

His spirits lightened when he saw that she was serious in her answer. He knew that from now she was going to be alright and that, eventually, her life would get back on track. While he knew she would have the odd bad day, he knew that in five years she would be the happiest she had ever been. He didn't have the omniscient powers his Father did, but he honestly believed that was what would happen. And that made him happy to know that one of the few people he cared about would be alright in the end.

But then came the shots and the whole of that future was ripped away.

The impact of the bullet storm had knocked him unconscious for a few seconds, but there was obviously no damage done. When he came to his senses and realised what had happened, he turned to his side and noticed Delilah on the ground next to him. Her body covered in patches of darker grey. He looked at her and saw that the light had gone out of her eyes. She was dead.

He felt sick before the anger kicked in. He had been on Earth many times and seen many things so the sight of blood meant nothing to him and it wasn't exactly like Hell had been blood-free, but seeing such a sight on someone he cared about had never failed to turn his stomach.

He was only thankful that the shade of grey that signified the blood often got lost in the other shades that surrounded it. He knew from literary experience that the colour of blood stood out and, quite frankly, part of him would rather remain not knowing just how much for the rest of his existence.


	6. I: Earth: Los Angeles, 2016 (ii)

There was fear in her eyes, he could tell. He looked at her and tilted his head, wondering when she would finally make the connection that he had been telling her since the day they had met. She must have caught a glimpse of him through the reflection in front of him when he had shown his true self to the terrified woman crouched on the ground. He wondered for a second whether it should bother him. The terrified woman - the Detective - in front of him, holding her gun out towards him, was a mystery to him. And enigma that he wanted to know more about. Part of him didn't want to lose her. He had to admit, he kind of liked working alongside her.

_Who are you?_

What _are you?_

But another part of him needed her to understand; needed her to realise that he wasn't mad, that everything he told her was true. He didn't want to scare her away, but, equally, he didn't know if he wanted to continue with her thinking that everything he made up was some form of metaphor.

_I've been trying to tell you I'm the Devil_

He knew she wouldn't accept his word at face value, she needed more proof. Despite everything strange that had happened around him that she had witnessed; despite the fact that she might have just caught a glimpse of the other side of him in the metal panel behind his head, Lucifer knew that she required hard and unshakable proof. Not something that could be explained by a trick of the light.

"I can't shoot you."

"Sure you can! Just give her a squeeze and we'll be good to go."

But still she refused, although Lucifer was starting to see that his words were starting to have an affect on her.

_Just shoot me, Detective._

The pain didn't register at first as the bullet grazed his leg, but it wasn't long before the sensation began to take over, his hand immediately flying to the wound. Never before had a bullet hurt him like this. Sure, depending on the distance of the shot, a bullet might wind him at the point of impact for a few seconds, sometimes even managing to knock him unconscious if in the right place, but nothing like this.

When his hand touched something wet, he looked at it in confusion. Was that...blood?

He stared at it for a few seconds, not understanding what was happening to him when something else remarkable occurred.

The wet, grey substance on his hand looked different to what he had been expecting. Lucifer didn't understand what it was he was looking at. In a world where everything else was surrounded in grey, the blood on his hand stood out in a way it had never done before. Colour. He was seeing colour. He was bleeding and was seeing colour.

_What does this mean?_

He collapsed to the floor in a mixture of pain and fear, looking up briefly at the Detective who had come over to him. There was something different about the way she looked. Her clothes were still black and white in Lucifer's vision, but something was off; something had changed.

So many thoughts were running through his mind. Not only had he just seen colour for the first time, he was bleeding, from an injury caused by a human weapon. Neither should have been possible. He had long since accepted that he would never see the colours of the world, but had never entertained the possibility of being injured in this way. Was he becoming mortal? Why was this happening? And more importantly, why now?

His eyes eventually locked on to the Detective's in front of him. They stared at each other for a moment and what Lucifer saw caused his breath to hitch in his throat.

Chloe's eyes were no longer a light grey. He couldn't name the colour, but it was there. That was what was off about her; he was seeing her in colour for the very first time. For a moment he forgot about the pain in his leg and focused on her and her alone. The sight was as beautiful as it was terrifying.

_What's happening to me?_

It was be a while before he would come even close answering that question, and even when he knew he answer, it would still take him time to come close to admitting it, but for now, none of that mattered. What mattered was that he had finally been given the chance to see the world for himself in a new light, something he had longed for since he had been a young Angel still living in the Silver City. What mattered was that he was becoming mortal. Both things terrified just as much as they excited him. The joy of being able to see the world in a new way and the fact that there were so many things to try and retry now that he had boundaries to be pushed meant that his life in LA had just become that little bit more interesting.

And with the colour of the Detective's eyes still very much visible in his mind's eye - a sight he knew he never wanted to forget - and despite the agonising pain still crippling his leg, he couldn't wait to make a start.


End file.
